


The Legend of Blisterskin Joe

by Baitnate



Category: Original Work
Genre: Film Students, Horror, Monsters, New Mexico Desert, Old West, Other, Salt Mine, Some Really Fucked Up Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:39:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baitnate/pseuds/Baitnate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two film students, Casey and Kris, go searching the New Mexico desert for the legendary Blisterskin Joe, who died over a century ago. What they find is something out of a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Legend of Blisterskin Joe

The Legend of Blisterskin Joe

 

Warning: Mature Content! Contains violence, foul language, horrific/disturbing monsters. If you get offended by this stuff, stop reading this and go read something that won't offend your sensibilities. All characters are of age (and can legally drink, actually). The characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental and sort of creepy.

 

“OhShitOhShit!OHFUCKSHIT!”

Struggling to get his jeans zipped up once more, sweating bullets, tucking his junk away, the piss having been fearfully forced from him, Kris stumbled and struggled and stumbled some more, frantically running back to the safety of the green van, where Casey gave him a cockeyed look followed by laughter. Kris threw open the door, jumping into the cool air of the van, panting hard, closing his eyes in relief.

“Dude... what the hell?”

“I just pissed on a rattlesnake.”

Casey burst out laughing, throwing his head against the steering wheel because it was so weird. “And it didn't rattle?”

“Not until I pissed all over it.” Kris groaned. He was laughing a little inside as well, but his heart was racing from the terrifying experience. They didn't have a chance of reaching a hospital out here; it was backwoods.... or backcacti? Either way, they were in the smack-dab middle of nowhere in the Southwest, looking up a local legend.

Both of them were film students, shooting a documentary on a local legend in the area. Over 142 years ago, a notorious outlaw haunted these lands, showing no mercy to anyone who crossed his path. Very, very few eyewitness accounts of him were ever written down, but what descriptions they provided were frightening; a white man, one with red eyes and no hair anywhere on his body, was always reddened by the sun, his skin flaking and coated in large, painful, ugly blisters. Coupled with his frightful appearance was the mentality of a serial killer; he not only slaughtered dozens of people- some of them women and children- but he liked to chop them up and scatter their remains around for the coyotes. They say he was the son of the Devil himself, or at the most kind of the stories, he was simply driven insane by the blistering burns on his flesh.

His Christian name was Joseph Guiler, but his legend named him Blisterskin Joe.

On his trail were these two, friends since their freshmen year in college. They had been traveling across the New Mexico desert, looking up stories of Blisterskin Joe; so far very little had been filmed and documented, but they learned that Blisterskin Joe perished in one of the silver mines around the area. They were now headed for a tiny, podunk desert hamlet called San Carrillo, located far west down the highway of the city of Socorro.

Casey was the mastermind behind this expedition, a chance to get out on a roadtrip, as well as get some credits in their film class. Kris being the cautious one, went along as backup. Yet, this trip had shown them that.... well, the desert heat does weird things to people! They had been in barfights, almost hooked up with a meth hooker, been fired upon many times, met alien conspiracy theorists, and enough other sordid tales to fill another documentary by itself.

Casey was athletic in form, with his desert-camo cargo shorts, as well as thin, slim-fitting grey T-shirt with short sleeves. A silver chain hung around his neck lazily, with a pair of studs in his ears. His face was angular and well-cut like a gem, with solid cheekbones. He had very dark brown eyebrows and every dark hazel eyes. Slightly scruffy, the only bit of facial he let grow out a tuft on his chin.

Kris was darker of skin tone (thanks to his Samoan heritage) but he was shorter than Casey by inches (although, he insisted, not where it really counted) He had jet-black hair, chocolate eyes, and polished statuesque skin. He wore a black shirt, white belt and jeans- poor dress for the heat, but they were his cleanest clothes; they were in desperate need of a laundromat. He was athletic like his friend, but more built for strength than speed and grace.

 

***

 

They were both sweating, despite the constant blast of the AC, and the empty bottles of gatorade in the back of the van with their soaked clothing, camera equipment, and other assorted garbage. Having reached the town limits of this place, they were pretty sure they'd find a place to crash for the night and find out what they needed to know about Blisterskin Joe. Stopping at the gas station, they both go out and stretched their legs, walking inside, finding the cashier being sleepy-eyed and surprised to see actual people. “Well, howdy.” The guy spoke; he looked like a hybrid of trailer-park Caucasian and migrant-worker Mexican, with long greasy hair tied into a ponytail, a badass handlebar mustache and pockmarked, sun-bleached-brown skin. He stank of smoke and nachos.

“Hey.” Casey waved. “Don't suppose you know a good motel?”

“Down the street. Only one in town; young fuckers use it for hookups.” The guy spoke. Kris cringed in disgust, and the man chuckled, his teeth looking like burnt peanut butter. “What you boys doing in this here town, anyway?”

“We're looking up information on Blisterskin Joe.” Casey replied, very straightforward.

“Oh really?” The checker responded. “And what makes you think we know anything about him?”  
“You know of the Babyhead Mine?” Casey came up to the counter, a pair of lemon-lime gatorades for purchase.

The man chuckled, and his breath smelt like burnt corpse gas. “You done your research, son.” The man rang him up, while Kris looked around for snacks. “Babyhead Mine is a bit up northwest of here. It's not on the maps- hasn't been for years.”

“Wow, thank you.” Casey smiled. “What do you know about Blisterskin Joe, if I may ask?”

“You a reporter or something?”

“We're shooting a documentary.” Casey said. “Film class.”

“Ah. Well, we have an old story.” The cashier said, leaning down on the counter, as if standing up straight was too much effort. “Blisterskin Joe was found out by the local marshal of these parts- real bastard, he was. Told Ol' Joe that he was gonna make him into a Blood Eagle. You know what that is, son?”

“No idea.”

“Well, it's where they rip apart your rib cage, and pull your lungs out through the back and over your head on a display, like a pair of eagle wings- bloody eagle wings.”

“Lovely.” Casey turned up his nose.

“Yeah, our Marshal back then -Dean Pritcher, was his name- was a real assfuck. Merciless and bloodthirsty, but by God Almighty, he kept this town together. He went after Blisterskin Joe, and cornered him in the Babyhead Mine one day. Most of his posse had given up and surrendered. But not Ol' Joe.”

“What happened?” Kris came up with a bag of beef jerky and trail mix, as well as two blue glacier flavored Gatorades.

“Well, we don't quite know the details....” The man spoke. “But Blisterskin Joe hid in the mine, taking some local children hostage with him. There was a stand-off, and Marshal Pritcher decided to cut off the Babyhead Mine, reasoning that Ol' Joe would have to come out for water and food sometime.”

Kris was shocked! “Oh jeez, even with the kids in there?”  
“Did I stutter when I said Marshal Pritcher was a REAL assfuck?” The silence between the three of them was ominous and awkward. But the old man continued his story. “It took a good month and a day before Blisterskin Joe gave up the fight. The Marshal's men heard screaming from the mines- children and Ol' Joe himself shrieking bloody murder from down the shafts. The Marshal waited a long time, waiting for the screaming to stop, before he sent armed men down into the Mine....”

“And then?” Casey leaned in.

“Hold yer damn horses, boy, I'm gettin' to it!” The cashier rang up Kris' products, then continued. “They found Ol' Joe, but he'd been ripped open from the gut, almost like a cow at a slaughterhouse. Damn thing was, he died in a chamber full of salt.”

“Salt?”

“Yep. The Babyhead Mine is more of a salt mine than a silver one. The ore dried up quickly, so it was pretty abandoned, but they dug out several tunnels into large deposits of salt crystals. When they found Blisterskin, he was dry as dust and deader than roadkill.”

“What happened to the kids?” Kris asked.

“Oh, they were brought out, more or less worse for wear. They were starving and really dehydrated. But they were moving. You might say we all lived happily ever after, heh haha.” The man rubbed the sweat off his forehead. “Oh, one more thing. If you're gonna head up there, make sure you check in with Donny Pritcher. He owns the land closest to the old Babyhead Mine. He considers it his, but it's unclear if he legally owns it or not. Either way! The man's a good hunter and hates trespassers on his land. Ya best be polite and introduce yourselves.”

“Donny Pritcher? Any relation?”

“Oh yeah. Direct descendent of Dean.” The man chuckled. “The apple don't fall far, don't it? Oh, and one more thing....”  
“Yeah?” Both boys were almost out of the door.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but you two are a fine-looking pair of gentlemen. Ya best watch out for each other. Donny, when he comes into town.... well, he gawks a lot at the high school boys. More than a man should, if ya get my drift.”

Casey shuddered. “Alright, we'll be careful.”  
“I do wish ya boys luck.” The cashier waved them off.

 

***

 

The next afternoon, after finding a laundromat and getting themselves freshened up, Casey and Kris set off down the road towards Donny Pritcher's house up in the hills. The green van chugged along, the broken road beneath them rocking the shocks. A bit of nervousness set in, as Kris tore viciously at the beef jerky in his hand. He chewed long and hard, then a thought occurred to him.

“Isn't this how a lot of horror movies start?” He asked.

Casey chuckled, expertly twisting the cap back onto his gatorade. “Hardly. We would need to have three or four girls with fantastic tits in the backseat, giggling and shrieking and wanting so badly to have sex with us.”

Kris rolled his eyes, although he did miss the girls. “I mean, abandoned road outside of town, creepy dude out in the woods, -who likes BOYS, no less- abandoned, possibly haunted mine. We gonna die or get raped, dude.”

“We are not, you chicken shit.” Casey shook his head. “We're gonna get some footage of the mine, do a short interview, and if he lets us, we should go explore a bit.”

“Explore what? Inside the mine? Dude, that's crazy.”

“Best way to get the best shots. Won't go deep, promise.”

“That's what she said?” Kris joked. Casey punched him in the shoulder.

 

***

 

Donny Pritcher's cabin in the hills was everything they expected it to be. It looked like it was made of plywood scraps cobbled together to form a square-shaped house of sorts. It had only tiny, maybe one-foot-by-one-foot windows, all of them covered in grime and dust. Off to one side the house transformed into thin sheet metal, possible tin, but it looked like a horrid chimera either way. The roof was riveted sheet metal as well, and the boys in the green van wondered just how the hell Donny kept cool, or possibly if he had water or electricity, for it would have been an act of ultimate mercy to wire and pipe up this mockery of civilization all the way out here.

Stepping onto his porch, with a polished Winchester in hand, was Donny himself. He was skinny, almost gaunt, with his skin pale and red at the same time; freckles mingled with dirt and dust on his face, and he had grey eyes. He was a redhead, with his greasy short locks tucked messy under his black cowboy hat. He looked out of it, like a man with almost no sleep. Weirdly enough, he was younger than expected. He looked about on the cusp of 30, if not younger. He kept his finger on the trigger as the two men in the car got out, walking towards him slowly. Casey had told Kris earlier to keep their hands visible, so that they could talk to this guy.

“Hello!” Casey called.

“Can I help you?” The man replied tersely.

“Yes, we're looking for Donny Pritcher.”

“Oh what business?” The man spat on the ground.

“We're filming a documentary on Blisterskin Joe. Just wanted some firsthand information.” Casey replied. Kris glanced around, nervous as hell, and expecting to be fired upon at any given moment. He swallowed in relief as the man with the gun set the stock to the ground.

“I am he.” The redheaded cowboy replied.

“Great! Can we ask you a few questions?” Casey asked.

“You two seem like decent men.” Donny replied, spitting another wad in the dirt. “You fellers drink?”

“Actually, we brought our own.” Casey smiled. “A gift to you, sir, for us bothering you.” He nudged Kris, who went back to the trunk of the van, and grabbed the bottle they had bought out of the cooler. It was a Kentucky Bourbon, straight from the liquor store in town. Upon seeing the bottle, Donny Pritcher grinned, his yellow teeth reflecting off the sunlight.

“Well, I think I can spare a few moments of mah time after all, gentlemen.”

 

***

 

“Oh, they left out a BIG difference in that story.” Donny said, downing another shot. They were seated around a makeshift table, on rickety, creaking lawn-chairs on Donny's filthy front porch. The shade was welcoming, as the sun baked the sands and shrubs into oblivion on it's daily journey across the sky.

“Really?” Kris asked. “Like what?” He held the camcorder, taking this all in.

“Well, the part about the kids coming out of the mine. That didn't happen.” There are an ominous, dreadful look on Donny's face. At this, Casey leaned in, his shots finished and his attention focused on the man one hundred percent. Donny continued, “well.... they held out for a LUNAR month, 28 days be exact.... and Blisterskin Joe didn't have a lot of supplies in there. The food was rationed very closely, but the water... well, they had a lot, but it got contaminated from the salts in the mine somehow.”

“Oh shit.” Casey's eyes widened.

“Yup.” Donny replied, pouring and downing another shot. “Them kids didn't last long. This is where the legend gets interesting, though. Mah Granddaddy sent in his men, and Blisterskin Joe fired two shots, and the children screamed, so they backed off. The children had all died by now, probably from dehydration- a horrible way to go.” Donny shuddered at the thought. Although he knew that Dean Pritcher was actually his great-great grandfather, he still just called him “Granddaddy.” It was tradition in the Pritcher house to do this.

“What did they find?”

“Well, you know the part where Ol' Joe was heard screaming in the mines.... they went in and found him, totally drained of blood and other fluids. They claim it was the salt deposit soaking it all up, but that's horse shit if I ever heard it.”

“What about the kids?” Casey asked.

“Oh, theys found 'em, all right. But they only found a few of 'em, and all of 'em were dead.”

“Like, they never found the bodies?”

“Nope. Twelve kids went in, and only four bodies came back out.” Donny sighed. “They ripped mah Granddaddy a new asshole that day. Stripped him of his badge for lettin' them all die. Forced off our land, too. Only place we could find to live on was here by the mine.”

“Ugh...” Casey groaned.

“It's fucked up, that's what it is.” Donny glanced out at the hills. “Pardon mah French.”

“No problem.” Kris smiled in sympathy. Casey glanced out at the hills themselves, rolling with dead yellow grasses and stunted little trees. There was groundwater here, so whatever was growing had to dig in deep.

“Can we see the mine?” Casey asked.

Donny glanced at the two. “I can show you the outside, but I can't let you go in. Not in good conscience, anyway. It's just too dangerous.”

“We brought climbing gear for inside, I'd really like to.”

“No.” Donny sternly responded, his eyes showing something fierce and locking hard with Casey's. “Just the outside. Nothing more. If you fellers get yourselves killed it's gonna come down hard on me something fierce.”

“We're careful, Mr. Pritcher.” Casey replied. “Kris and I have been rock climbing for a while now, and we're experienced spelunkers too.”

“Oh I'm sure ya'll are, but I sure as hell am not letting you enter that mine, as it's on MAH property, and I am willing to defend that right.” He gripped his rifle lovingly. Casey glanced at Kris, who's heart began to race and his eyes were getting wider by the second. So, he was forced to relent with a sigh. He held out his hand to Donny.

“Okay, sir. We won't go into the mine. I swear to God we will not.” Casey smiled. Donny shook his hand.

“I'm gonna hold ya to that promise, ya hear?”

“Yes, I promise.” Casey replied. He had not disclosed the fact that he was atheist to Donny.

 

***

 

The Babyhead Mine was a ruined rut of railroad ties and rusted rails, sinking into the earth as the dirt and plantlife sought to bury the human technological abomination within the landscape. The sun was midway through it's descent in the sky when Donny's truck and Casey and Kris' van arrived at the mine. Donny got out, still clutching his rifle, with a pistol down on his belt. He looked slightly anxious, as if he expected something to attack. Kris was equally nervous, because the armed hillbilly seemed pretty determined to keep them out of the haunted location.

Outside, the air was still and unmoving, in an unnerving corpselike quiet. There seemed to be little living pants here, save for small trees. Zero sounds of animal life could be heard. There was something very unnatural about this place. Donny glanced around, as the boys grabbed their cameras. “It's a bit of a hike up here.” Donny whispered. It struck Casey and Kris as strange.

“Casey, we should go back. I have a BAD feeling about this.” Kris whispered as they followed the redhead.

“Dude, grow a pair. Seriously.” Casey whisper-scoffed to his partner. “We are almost done. We just need some footage and maybe a few more stories, and then we can go back to civilization again. Promise.”

Kris narrowed his eyes. “I'm not going into that mine.”

“I'm going.” Casey replied softly. “And if I die in there without backup, it'll be your fault.”

“Don't you fucking-”

Donny spun around, angry glance at the two of them. “Something ya'll gotta say? Cause you're causin' a fuckin' ruckus. I can't hear mahself think, dammit.”

“Sorry.” Casey spoke, Kris glanced towards the ground away from. Casey turned red with fear. He nudged his friend “think he heard us?”

“I think he would have said something.” Kris replied in whisper.

 

***

 

It was a hole most unnatural looking, coated in dead brown dust, old woody pillars sagging but supporting the rocks above and alongside them. A small wooden shack was built around the cave system, channeling the rare rains away from the cave system. It was crumbled, though, and made the darkness down below look more like the maw of some undying god than a welcoming natural shelter.

“No tracks?” Casey asked Donny, his voice so rudely disturbing the silence here. His normal speaking voice seemed almost a shout.

“This' a alternate entrance. The original one is buried under a fuck-ton of rocks.” Donny explained, he pointed off down far to the right of the entrance they were at. “Dynamited that son of a bitch in there. Granddaddy wasn't known for bein' the merciful type.”

“Jesus.” Kris exclaimed in a quiet voice.

“Anything else I can help you boys with?” Donny asked.

“Any other details you can tell us about the mine?” Kris asked.

“Well, it's got large salt crystal deposits down there- the air is so dry you can feel it. The salt sticks to your skin for days, and you get cotton-spit because you're breathing in all that dry-ass air.”

“No wonder the kids dehydrated so quickly.”

“Yup.” Donny nodded. “This is the alternate entrance, meant for clean air, and also a escape way in case a tunnel goes collapsin'. Right now it's the only way in or out, since Grandaddy destroyed the bigger one down there. He had armed men watch this hole aroun' the clock; he didn't sleep much, and wanted to be there when Blisterskin Joe came out with his hands in the air.”

Casey turned down his camera. “Hey, mind if I get some close-up shots? I won't go in, promise.”

“Alright, but stay where I can see ya.” Donny replied. Kris felt his blood go cold as he was left up and alone with this potentially crazed redneck. Casey ascended the hill-scape looking for his perfect shot, and came upon the maw of darkness. He positioned his camcorder to his eye, scanning about the area.

He jumped out of his skin when he heard a sound.

It sounded vaguely like a hiss. It came from the cave.

He looked away, and saw with his own eyes, something like a small skinny child, maybe about 3 feet tall and impossibly gaunt. It was stark white, like chalk, with a cone-shaped head, scrawled across it's surface were sickly, bruise-colored veins. It didn't have eyes- but it had a mouth full of blunted teeth. It had stick-like arms, ending in tiny, tiny hands and tiny, stunted, almost circular feet.

Then it JUMPED several feet into the air, hissing and clawing as it tried to latch onto him!

“FUCK!” Casey screamed, running back and away from the cave with all do haste, he didn't stop to ponder what he saw, pumping his arms as fast as they would go, scrambling through the brush to safety.

BAM! The gun of the redneck went off, and Kris gasped in horror, Casey falling flat on the ground instinctively. He got up and ran up to the other two men, Donny looking furious at him.

“You need to leave. Now.” He ordered.

“What the FUCK was that, Donny?!” Casey cried.

“Damn raccoons. They get crazy around these parts. Now get out of here. You've overstayed your welcome.” Donny pointed towards their van.

Casey looked at him in exasperation “that was NOT a raccoon, Donny!”

“Boy I told you to LEAVE.” He leveled the gun at Casey's chest.

“Wait!” Kris shouted, holding out his hand. “Okay, we'll go, Donny. Thanks for your time, and sorry to bug you.” He pushed Casey by the arm back to the van, opening the passenger door and forcing him inside. Kris got in, the keys to the vehicle in his hands, and he drove away as fast as possible. Donny didn't take his eyes off them the entire time.

 

***

 

Back at the motel: “I left my camcorder up there.” Casey hung his head, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Kris choked on his burger. “Dude!”

“Sorry. I dropped it when the thing came after me.”

“No.” Kris pointed his finger, drinking down the Coke before continuing. “No, no, no! We are not going back up there. If whatever the fuck you saw tried to ATTACK you, then we shouldn't be up there! And then there's psycho Donny with a shotgun to worry about- fuck the camera, we'll just use what footage I got.”

“No, I got too much on that camera. I mean, we're really gonna need it for the whole thing. I have a TON of stuff on the tape in that camera.”

Kris wiped the sweat off his face. “Casey... you stupid fucktard.... you didn't have backup tapes?!”

“No. You have most of the filming, but I captured some interesting stuff I wanted to add on to your's.” Casey sighed. He glanced down at the ground, trying to think straight. “We need to go back and grab the camera.”

“Fuck no we don't!” Kris exclaimed. “I'm not getting shot, dammit!”

“Then I'll go. You wait here.” Casey replied, very calmly. “I'm gonna head out close to dawn; crazyfuck Donny should be drunk off his ass and sleeping. Then I'll grab the cam, we get out of there, and nobody gets hurt.”

“What about the thing you saw?”

“It's afraid of guns, and it doesn't look so tough. We can kill it if it comes back.” Casey laid down on the bed on the pillow. “I'm gonna turn in now. You in or out?”

Kris groaned. “In. I'm not letting you go up there alone.”

“Thanks.”

 

***

 

It was about 3:45 AM, when they pulled up to the mine entrance once more. The van parked, and they had bypassed the Pritcher house by a long shot- there was no way for Donny to know they were here. Casey stepped out of the car, heavy flashlight in hand, and a knife on his belt. He didn't really have the skills to fight with it.... it was more of a comfort. He was relying on the heavy flashlight for bringing the pain. Kris followed closely, and they dug out their spelunking gear- it had helmets with flashlights in them for illumination, and they wore wrist gloves, knee pads, and elbow guards as well. It was going to be shit for protection, but it was the best they had.

“Didn't you leave it at the entrance?” Kris asked.

“I'm thinking it may have tried to eat it, probably took it into the mine.” Casey replied. They closed and locked the door, flashlights in hand, and walked down to the mine entrance. Sure enough, a quick scan, and they found nothing, except for drag marks through the dirt, going into the mine.

“Shit, that things not very strong.” Casey scoffed. “Can't even drag a handheld.”

“That's reassuring. How fast?”

“They can jump high, that's for sure. Creepy looking pieces of shit, too.” Casey pulled out a ball of yellow twine. “We're gonna need it.”

“This is so fucking dangerous.”

“I know. Now shut up and tie this to something.” Casey snapped. Kris tied the twine to the post at the entrance, and unrolled as they traveled into the cave. Casey took the lead, flashlight in hand, overhead and ready to swing down at a moment's notice. Kris unrolled the twine, his eyes going beady as they traversed deeper and deeper. The mine was relatively straight in the digging, thankfully. It branched out sparingly, usually no more than two tunnels at a time.

The air was very dry and stale. The boys felt the water simply leech out of their skin, drying and seeming to want to flake off or crack. The salt ions in the air dried their noses and mouths pretty quickly. It irritated their eyes to the point where both of them were blinking constantly, wetting their oculars to keep their sight going. They wished they had brought a source of water, for Donny was not kidding when he said how dry it was in here.

Pitter patter pitter patter went a pair of tiny feet!

Both of them stopped, because the noise came from a tunnel off to their right. Kris, wild-eyed, glance down with the head-light he wore and reached for his heavy flashlight, ready to swing and kill. His adrenaline flowed fast, and in the silence of the cave, he heard his own veins pumping over the sound of anything else. Sweat droplets, impossibly forming despite the salty air, coated his forehead and face.

“Sssszzzzzz!” The little hissing-buzzing noise echoed down the tunnel, and both of them gasped, ready to kill, but nothing came.

“SSSSzzzzz!” Another one sounded.

“There's two?” Kris stammered.

“Sssszzzz! Sssszzzzz! Sssszzzzzzssssszzz!” Casey, keeping his eyes on the tunnel, advanced down the other, praying to all that was good and holy, to things he didn't believe in, that this tunnel did not lead into the one with the hiss-buzzing sounds. They kept going, and the hiss-buzz of the creatures seemed to fade away. They kept advancing, heading further left, where there were no sounds of strangeness and danger. Kris scuffed his shoe-

CREAK!

The wood made a sharp, cracking creaking screaming sound, far too loud for both of their need to be stealthy. Kris glanced back, flashlight-club-of-death ready to defend himself, but he was on the verge of pissing his pants in fright. He gritted his teeth, his saliva now white from dryness and making it hard to focus. Casey waited, and glanced forward, waiting to hear anything that might betray the creature's positions.

“Sssszzzz.” He heard ahead of them, in the darkness, and his heart ceased beating. He stopped breathing as well.

Pitter patter!

Casey jumped back, tense and angry and scared shitless! The wood creaked under the strain of his jump, and Kris gasped as well.

“Sszzz! Sssszzzzzz!” More hissing and buzzing!

Kris screamed when he finally saw the thing, it's gaunt horrid form, skinny arms and skinny legs and wrongly-shaped cone-like head with no eyes, ears, hair or identifying features; it had only teeth, and he could have sworn it FUCKING SMILED at him!

“Sssssszzzzzzaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww!!!” the thing bellowed, and hot salty dry air assaulted his senses, smelling foul as rotten milk mixed with pungent pepper mixed with copper-scented blood. He was blinded by searing salty pain to his eyes, he was full of tears, unable to see, and tripped trying to back up, knocking Casey over as he fell onto the creaking cracking wood. The boards groaned in death throes, and gave way to the abyss!

“AAAAAAHHHH!!!!” Kris screamed as he plummeted with the wood into the darkness. Casey screamed too, gripping he ledge and pulling himself up. He suddenly shrieked as he felt the skin on his hand break, tiny blunt teeth drilling into him, and a frightful burning sensation as he felt the damn little creature suck on his blood!

“FUCK!” Casey screamed, smashing the little creature in it's ugly little head with his flashlight. It shrieked as it's skull cracked sickening, but it was not like bone at all; but like the sound of dry paper breaking apart. “Ssssszzzzaaaaaaa!” the thing cried. Casey swung his flashlight again, braining it, and a disgusting syrup, greyish-black like tar, seeped from the wound. He beamed the thing again, and again and again, until it stopped moving, finally. He panted heavily, and checked his wound. It was messed up, dry, with the skin around it flaking already, as if the water from his system had been sucked on, not just his blood supply; the wound had already clotted ,and it burned like it had been disinfected.

It suddenly occurred to him that these things might be MADE of salt, and the lacking logic of that thought made him suddenly shout “What the fuck?!” in frustration. He scanned his flashlight down below, “KRIS!” He screamed. “KRIS!”

No answer.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.... No, Kris!” He had to find a way down there, to get him out of there. He suddenly saw light radiating behind him, turning quickly and getting a flash in the eyes. He felt a thick thud to his head and all went to blackness.

 

***

 

Kris groaned, working his limbs and drying to quench the dryness from his throat. He managed to stand, no less worse for wear, working his helmet light, but it kept flickering and fidgeting, not something he wanted in the middle of a mine full of nasty creatures.... this was perhaps a manifestation of one of his worst nightmares.

“Fucking Casey.... Fuck Casey!” He swore. He found his handheld flashlight, but found it broken.... well, at least he had a weapon of sorts. But he was down a shaft. He glanced around, and saw a tunnel out, but heard a familiar sound.

“Ssszzz.” The sibilance turned into a gathering. “Szzz! Ssssszzzzzzz.”

“GGGGGAAAAHHHH!!!!” He roared, and they shrieked-hissed, pitter-pattering away at a frightful pace. He felt his throating burning with dryness, and ached for a drink. He went out into the tunnel, following it and hoping to God it went back up to the surface. It was all he could do. He could not think straight for some reason- it was as if the salty ionic air was drying out his brain!

“Ssssszzzzaaaaa!” Latching onto his arm, the creature bit down, and he shrieked back, slamming his flashlight onto the creature. He swung his arm and smashed it against the wall, and it sounded like dry paper crumbling as it fell off, moaning and hissing. He brought his leg up, and smashed it down upon the little beasty, crushing it's torso and making it hoarsely hiss and wince in agony.

“Ssssszzzaaa!” Two more jumped onto him, latching themselves to his back and shoulder, biting and clawing (had they claws) and trying to break through to his sweet fluids. Kris swung wildly, trying to get them off of his body.

“NOT TODAY FUCKERS!” He roared, back-slamming one of them against the cavern wall. He felt teeth bite through on his neck, and a sudden rush as he felt his blood leave him hit like a neural thunderbolt. He yanked the nasty thing off him, snapping it's scrawny neck. Except that when he did so, the damn head came off!

He puked, which made his dryness nigh-unbearable. Now he had a terrible taste in his throat, and it was burning so terribly. He felt his neck in desperation, thinking he was bleeding to death... but shockingly, the blood was clotted and the wound was bone-dry. He screamed in frustration and total fear, sweating and losing so much water it was driving him past his brink.

Then he saw a light approach him, just as his own flashlight went dead. He ran to it. “CASEY!”

Instead he saw Donny, with a flashlight taped to his rifle. He turned up his nose at the sight of Kris. “Jesus Christ.”

“Donny! Please help me! I don't know where Casey is!”

“Oh he's fine, trust me.” Donny replied. “You look thirsty.”

“Oh please...” He begged, barely able to stand. His light finally died, and he yanked off his helmet in frustration. “What are these things anyway?”

“Why, they're the children who died with Blisterskin Joe.” Donny replied. Kris suddenly felt very afraid. He backed up, suddenly unable to properly breathe out of sheer shock.

“No... how's that possible...”

“I dunno myself. But they're really friendly once you get to know them.” Donny grinned. He pulled out a canteen bottle, old-timey looking it was. “Drink?” Kris licked his lips, and took the canteen from him ducking and weaving back away from him quickly- he was desperate for water, but still distrusted the man. Sucking down the cool well water within ravenously, he left a little to splash across his face, and wiped his eyes. He wiped them off just in time to see Donny raise his rifle, and smack him right in the face.

 

***

 

Casey awoke with the sunlight coming up from the east. He was sitting within his van, but realized his predicament really quickly, as he was tied up tightly.... Ropes twisted around his ankles, his thighs, and his wrists were bound tightly in front of him. Ropes bound his arms down, twisting around his torso like serpents, with loops in his armpits to keep the cords tight and preventing slipping. A pair of seperate ropes kept him attached to the seat, unable to move at all. White tape wound tightly around the lower part of his head gagged him hard, and he could not make a single sound as he struggled to get free. Most disturbing of all, he wore just his red briefs. He moved his wrists, trying to reach up and try to loosen the tape gag, but to no avail. He thrashed in the passenger seat of his own van, but to no avail. The ropes didn't even loosen. The creepy cowboy they'd met was good with ropes apparently....

He saw movement outside of the van, seeing Donny with Kris hoisted over his shoulders, carrying him to the van itself. He'd been knocked out, Casey hoped. Or at worst.... killed. The most disturbing thing, though, was the little pale creatures in the mine following him around, docile, obedient, but occasionally jumping at Kris' body, snapping their teeth.

“Kmmmhmm? Mmmmhhhmmfffmmmffmmm!” He struggled hard, trying to free himself squirming side to side in vain. He was sweating bullets now, and kept having to refocus his eyes; although he was gagged tight with a tape-based seal, he was SO epically thirsty he would have sold his soul for a shot glass of water. He saw the little things scramble away from Kris and Donny as the latter slammed him in the dirt, and began to search his pockets. Next thing he did was strip the boy out of his clothes, down to his grey boxer briefs, He opened the back door the van, putting the almost naked boy inside.

“Hey there, have a good nap?” Donny chuckled. He began to tie Kris' wrists around behind his back, binding them very tightly. The little creatures outside began to hiss and buzz among themselves, four of them- then they made a weird sound.

(“Oh fuck! Did they just GIGGLE?!”) Casey shuddered and shivered, despite the balmy 90 degrees outside. Donny tied some more ropes around Kris' waist and chest, binding his arms down. He roped the boy's knees and ankles tightly, before pulling out the white tape and wrapping it three times around Kris' mouth, gagging him firmly. After that, he climbed out, shut the door, and then climbed into the driver's seat.

“Oh, you left your handy-cam at the mine entrance. I was waiting for you to come get it from my house, but it seems you had OTHER plans.” He glared, taking a swig of water from the canteen. Casey eagerly longed for a drink. So Donny, being the sporting man, splashed him in the face, and Casey sobbed. The redhead chuckled, for it was quite the predicament.

“I told you not to go into the mine. And you LIED to me. I don't like liars. No sirree, I don't like them at ALL.” Donny reached over, pinching Casey's nipple, he screamed and squirmed away, angry but despairing at ever escaping. He could only glare hatred at him. “I'm gonna have so much fun with you two....” The sudden memory of the cashier warning them about Donny's gawking at the high school boys was now all too real. He reached over, biting Casey on the nipple this time, and he swung his tied fists, trying to beat the creepy man off of him.

“You know those things back there?” Donny replied as he withdrew from his angry captive. “Those are the children from a couple centuries ago. They didn't quite die.... they dehydrated, and came back to a sort of “un-life” if ya will.... They couldn't pass on to the afterlife, because their poor little lives were cut so short. That mine is evil, I tells ya. Something awful lives in there. It's un-God-like, if ya know what I mean. You know, you and your partner here killed a couple of them back there. Those poor children! You're an asshole, you know that?”

“Fffmmmymmmm!” Casey roared in muffled frustration.

“Oooh. That's got me real hard. Do it again, I dare ya.” Donny rubbed himself, and Casey felt his stomach twist itself into a thousand knots. “Oopsie, almost forgot a few people. Come on in guys!” He opened his door, and the four eyeless, coneheaded creatures scrambled over his lap, three of them bounding to the backseat, where they looked in the direction of Donny, as if waiting for an order.

“See?” Donny said to Casey. “They ain't so bad. I've been offering them blood and water for so long they look to me as their daddy. They're like my own little kiddies. Cute, ain't they?”

Casey's eyes and heart sank to the floor, but he found only a single creature caressing his leg.

“Okay fellers, you can LICK, but no more. Gotcha? Okay! Let's head home. Daddy's got some new friends to play with!”

“Szzzzaaaa!” Casey squirmed and screamed through the tape as the creature licked the sweat from him, jumping up in front of his face, long purple tongue reaching out and stroking off the liquid sweat drops. It felt like an octopus tentacle made of sandpaper, and he felt his flesh dry out almost instantly.

Kris awoke, realizing that these things were borderline eating him and started screaming bloody murder. Casey screamed as well, thrashing and attempting to get out of this nightmare, but because it was real, he was never going to wake up. Not now, not in the future, not ever.

Donny howled with laughter, before taking a swig from his canteen, enjoying the last drops of his sweet-tasting well water. He howled with even more laughter after glancing back at the struggling shrieking bound boy being licked by his little demonic children. What FUN they were all going to have with their new playmates!

“Ssszzzaaa!”

 

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another DeviantArt work. 
> 
> Casey: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Casey.png  
> Kris: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Kris.png  
> Donny: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Donny.jpg


End file.
